Sunday, March 21, 2010

I was 12 years old when my grandma died of lymphoma cancer. I remember what great a woman she was. In the years preceding her death I remember how she had gone from the strong woman she had once been physically and mentally to a woman who was in and out of the hospital and clinics for chemo and follow ups. I remember all the pills she took. I remember how the doctors had tried different treatments, how the family had converged to agree upon what path to take after one treatment after the other failed. I remember my grandma telling us we were not to cry once she was no more. I remember her hair falling off. I remember the way she keep the food down an emesis basin always by her bed because of how often she threw up.

I remember it all like it was yesterday because its what lead me into the healthcare field. I had a burning passion to learn more about what was wrong with her, how I could help, how to say the right things (therapeutically), what to do and when to do it. I remember wanting to make my grandma feel ok, wanting to take it all away. Vowing oncology would be my specialty. Taking an interest in it during my rotations. I remember how my heart has broken with every oncology patient who has been under my care.

Yesterday I found a lump on my right breast it was the last thing I expected. Why me? why not me? I've not been the same since. I worry. I zone out. I'm here and not here. Tears keep flooding my eyes. Do I want to know? should I be worried this much? will it really end up been the monster or just a false alarm?

Emotions are boiling in me. Spilling out of me. I cannot put into words my worry. I cannot sleep. I cannot tell my family because they will worry too much and what if it turns out to be nothing. But what if it turns out to be something?